Pookie Should Not Be in the Kitchen
by Fairy Queen of the Night
Summary: What happens when Italy is cooking and lets Pookie into the kitchen? Small chaos...


**Hello! 'Tis I, the Fairy Queen, providing another story for you. I hope that you enjoy this and please, Rate and Review. It warms my cold, little heart to see feedback. And remember, I love constructive criticism, as it helps me become better at writing, but flames will not be tolerated and will be used to keep Canada and I warm at night. Cheers!_ 3_  
**

A mess. That was the only thing that could be used to describe Germany's kitchen right now. Eggs where on the wall, slowly dripping down. Noodles hung from the cabinets and counter tops, half cooked. A knife was embedded into the table top and chair cushions were torn with their stuffing leaking out. Bits of vegetables were scattered all over the room. Red sauce coated the floors, under a thin layer of flour that had paw prints scattered on it.

And in the middle of it all stood Italy, hair slicked with oil and flour and a dot of sauce on his nose.

He stood there, quivering in fright. He knew he was going to get an earful from Germany. He knew that the blond haired man was strict in his cleanliness and the fact that he wasn't even supposed to be in the kitchen just made it worse. He had only tried making dinner for his best friend, but then things went wrong when Pookie had come in.

Italy looked at Germany, who was staring at hi with a red face and his hands clenched in fists at his side. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before speaking.

"Italy, what exactly happened here?" he said through clenched teeth.

"Well, G-Germany, y-you s-s-see I, um, I-I was m-making food, and, um, w-well, um…" he stuttered.

"GET ON WITH THE POINT!"

"Ah! Well, I was trying to cook food for you like I always do and I was making some yummy pasta and then I heard scratching at the door and I saw it was Pookie so I let him in and he was in the kitchen with me but I accidentally splashed water n him and he got scared and started running around the kitchen so I started chasing him and I spilled things and slipped and the food went everywhere and the knife got stuck when I accidentally smacked it off the counter and it fell and landed in the table and then you came home and…" he sputtered, babbling out the words with barley any time to breath before he switched to rapid Italian. Now, Germany was still learning the language and Italy was speaking very fast but he managed to hear "accident," "don't kill me," "virgin," and "Pookie is so cute!"

"Enough!" he growled, a headache forming from Italy's constant chatter.

Italy whimpered but shut his mouth, almost crying in fright. He thought for sure that Germany was going kill him. Oh no! What if he stopped being friends with him? That thought alone made Italy start crying.

"Italy, why are you crying?" asked Germany, flustered and confused.

"You're not going to be my friend anymore and you hate me and you don't love me!" he screeched. Fat tears rolled down his face, making him look for the entire world like a pitiful mess.

"Oh Italy, I don't hate you," Germany sighed, "You're still my friend. I just get aggravated when you do stupid stuff like this. I just wish that you would use your head more often."

Italy was filled with hope. "You still love me?" he exclaimed.

"Oh well, um, love is a strong word but… uh…" he stuttered. Poor Germany was never good with words.

"Yay! Germany still loves me!" Italy was filled with joy. He wiped away the last of his tears and jumped onto Germany in a large hug. Before Germany could even stutter out a few words, Italy grabbed his face with both hands and proceeded to peck small kisses all over his face.

Germany stiffened and felt his face become warm and red. Truth be told, Germany had always had a fondness for little Italy, and having him kiss his face repeatedly like that made cold, strong heart quietly sing with joy. Germany allowed a few more pecks before he himself braved a small kiss on Italy's nose, tasting the pasta sauce on his skin. The little Italian smiled; happy his friend returned his signs of happiness and friendship. Germany gently pulled Italy off of him and setting him on his feet. Italy grinned up at Germany still, his smile so radiant and full of joy that Germany couldn't help but smile as well.

"Come on, Italy. Let's go clean up the kitchen." Germany turned to a cupboard on the wall and opened it. It was filled to the top with various high-end, heavy duty cleaning supplies. He pulled out the things needed to clean the large mess.

"Okay Germany!" Italy bounded forward, grabbing supplies from Germany. But before he could start to clean, Germany spoke to him.

"Oh, Italy?"

"Si, Germany?"

"Never, EVER, let Pookie in the kitchen while you cook ever again."

"Ve, okay Germany!"

FIN


End file.
